Today marks one month that Ravi and I broke up. A month ago, I stood in my grandma's driveway and hugged Ravi goodbye. We both cried and promised to always be there for each other and said "I love you." He came back 2 days later to help me move but, there we were. Single.
The day after the breakup happened to be August 4--what would have been our 3 year anniversary. Ravi sent me flowers at work, with the following card:
Thank you for making the last 3 years so wonderful! I've tried my best to remain stoic to make the last couple of weeks more bearable, but it's been really hard to hold it together. I love you and will miss you more than I can explain. I feel like I'm leaving a part of me behind. I hope no matter what that we will always have a close friend in each other. Please come visit.
I almost went to visit him this weekend, but we agreed it was still too soon. I hadn't even thought about the date significance. I'm glad I didn't go just yet. It would have been heartwrenching.
I guess this is the part where I say this has been the hardest month of my life or something, but it hasn't. It's not even been the saddest (though really it's only second to some very significant deaths). This breakup has been very strange for me, in that I'm not reacting to it in a way I'm familiar with. I'm not down in the pits of despair, fantasizing about suicide or running away (though the thought of never having existed occasionally flits across my mind). I'm sad, but I've only had about a week or so of that kind of desperate I-will-never-feel-good-again sadness. I feel guilty about it in a way, like I should feel so much worse about this breakup. But I realize that I'm just sad in a different way, what I think is a healthier way.
But I'm still sad. And I miss my companion. And a huge part of me wishes that I was in Austin right now. So I'm cooking and listening to music and doing what I can to keep putting one foot in front of the other.